A/N: Aren't you proud of me? Five whole chapters!! And fifteen more to come!!

Please review to keep me motivated. When no one reviews it makes me think you don't like me -lip quivers-. You do like me, right?

Chapter 5

After Joey and Kaiba and…Yami had left, Yugi dragged Marik's limp body into the den, groaning as he lifted him onto the couch.

Why did Yami have to show up and ruin everything? Yugi went to get a wet towel to clean the blood off of Marik's face.

When he came back into the room, Marik was sitting up rubbing his head. Yugi handed him the towel and silently watched him dab tenderly at his swollen face. He motioned for Yugi to sit next to him of the sofa. Yugi obeyed and Marik slipped his arms around Yugi's slim waist, pulling him not so gently onto his lap. Yugi gazed up at the silver haired Egyptian, feeling a little unsure for the first time since he'd left Yami. He tried to remember exactly why he had done why he had. He knew it wasn't because he hadn't been happy. Yami had never hurt him, never showed him anything but kindness and caring. He'd even told Yugi that he loved him, that they were meant to be together. Not, the reason that he'd left was that he was selfish. He wanted to prove that he wasn't the little goody-two-shoes everyone thought he was. And now, as he sat captive in Marik's lap with the tomb keeper's hands running down his back, he realized that he hadn't been trying to prove it to his friends, he'd been convincing himself. And now he knew that that it was all a lie. The only thing he wanted right now was probably the only thing he could never have again.

Yugi jumped a little, startled by Marik's hand slipping into his jeans. He tried to pull away, knowing that this was no longer—nor had ever really been—what he wanted. But it was too late. There was a glint of hunger in Marik's eyes, something that he'd seen many times before and knew never lead to anything good.

"Scared, Yugi?" Marik asked, his voice filled with lust.

"No," Yugi responded, doing his best to mask his true emotions. He prayed that Marik wouldn't see through him. He prayed that someone would find him and rescue him from the trap he'd set for himself. He prayed that Yami would take him back.

"Good," Marik hissed, "Because I like to play rough." He grabbed Yugi by the wrists and thrust him forward onto the sofa, pinning him down with one hand and removing his pants with the other. Yugi was no stranger to sew, but he was terrified. This was more like rape. And he should have known that before, after seeing what Marik had done to Joey. He had thought it would be different with him. He had thought that Marik's words meant something; that he thought of Yugi as more that just a fuck. He'd been acting like the naïve fool that he'd been trying to convince everyone he wasn't. And now he was paying for it. He was getting what he deserved for being an asshole; for throwing away the things he cared about the most.

Yami ducked down a dark alleyway, running mindlessly in some unknown direction. He stopped in some unknown direction. He stopped for a breath under a porch light, slumping back against the wall. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, having spent much of the night fighting back tears. What the hell had he done to deserve this?

He heard footsteps and glanced up. A young boy, maybe sixteen, was standing in front of him. He looked older than he probably was, his face streaked with dirt and a bloody cut on his right cheek. His dark hair fell over one eye.

"Bad day?" The boy asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, you?" Yami replied, tiredly.

"Not awful," the boy reached into his pocket. "Maybe this will help," he said, offering a hand-rolled cigarette to Yami. In his distressed state, Yami accepted it, allowing the boy to light it for him. He held it to his mouth, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply the sweet smell of marijuana. When he reopened his eyes to thank the boy, he was gone. Yami took another drag, feeling the pounding in his head subside as he did. Amazing that he'd never tried this before. He finished the cigarette and tossed it to the curb, stamping it out with the heel of his boot.

He continued walking, his head now pleasantly clear.

Minutes later he was standing outside of Bakura and Ryou's place. Not remembering if he'd been planning to go there all along, or if he'd just happened to show up there, he knocked on the door. After a while, when Yami was about to give up and continue walking, the door opened. It was Bakura, clad only in plaid boxers with his hair wild and covering most of his face.

"What do you want, Yami, it's nearly two in the morning."

"Sorry," Yami said, I—I was just out walking and—"

"Yami, are you high?" Bakura asked, noticing that the Pharaoh's pupils were abnormally dilated and he obviously wasn't thinking straight.

Yami nodded, half grinning. Barkura raised his eyebrows. There was something seriously wrong if the Pharaoh was turning up intoxicated on his doorstep in the middle of the night.

Ryou's small form appeared at the top of the stairs. " 'Kura, who is it?" he asked groggily. At that moment, Yami swayed and passed out cold on the floor.

"Great," Bakura grumbled.

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